Drake’s eyes wavered faintly as he felt a change in Larke’s aura. He went to stand, seeing how kneeling the way he did was starting to become uncomfortable. Was it possible he was making progress? It was hard to say, but Larke’s coughing was less than reassuring and the boy found himself instinctively reaching out as if to assist him. His hand suspended momentarily in the air, but did not make contact, however, instead pulling back after a brief hesitation.

As Larke spoke, the boy’s eyes softened and lit up with a glimmer of hope. Unfortunately, their potentially uplifting scene was about to be cut short.

Whatever Drake was going to say or do in that moment was thrown aside as the predatory sensation fell over the Wanderer ranch. For most of his peers, it was a dreadful tingling, like something foreign or wrong was amiss. But Drake was an energy sensor, and as such, the oncoming energy hit him like a speeding train. Whatever energy was behind their abysmal forewarning, it crashed into him like a relentless tidal wave, the weight of it crushing. Silver eyes shot open wide and his spine snapped back as if someone had yanked him by the hair. Their demise was fast approaching. Fear took hold of him in an instant, its cold bony fingers wrapping around his chest and lungs. He found it hard to breathe, and a series of shuddered gasps were all that escaped the boy’s lips right before it hit.

For the first time since banding together with the Wanderers, Drake felt the urge to run. To leave his family behind and never look back, lest he find himself returning to this god forsaken nightmare that was about to befall them. He was completely and utterly terrified, trembling with indecision on whether or not to book it now while he still had the chance. Survival instincts screamed in his ear, but they would do nothing to save him. The threat was approaching far too rapidly, and as the winged boy stepped back, he realized he could never escape in time. It was already much too late.

This… This was inevitable.
 

/No./
 

And just like that, the energy plummeted over the ashlanders, striking each and every one of them in the blink of an eye. His power was gone, having ceased with the snap of a finger. And be as it may, the results were detrimental. 

Drake stumbled hard and reached for the nearest support beam in his dizzying haze. His eyes squeezed shut and his jaw clenched, head spinning like that of a drunkard. 

Normally his powers kept his energy contained and recycled it, allowing him to walk and fly without tiring. That was how he managed to conjure up enough energy to attack without passing out. It was also why he had to recharge after a big battle, to gain that energy back - but now his body was forced to remember how to store it on its own in order to compensate for this unprecedented lack of power. Pain coursed through him as certain organs and vitals started up with some difficulty, only to immediately be thrown into high gear in order to contain the energy that was seeping out of him at an alarming rate.

Drake leaned heavily against the wooden frame, curling over a bit. His body didn’t really store fat from food - it had never needed to, which was why he was so thin. Less weight made for faster flight, which worked well before, but now it wasn't in his favor. His body lacked the basic means to provide itself with a constant energy supply, something a normal human system did naturally in order to function. And as a result, the boy felt dazed, fatigued, and sick. 

Drake was malnutritioned, at best. 
Dangerously ill at worst.
 
/Dawn? ...Please tell me you can hear me.../

But there was no response. 
At least, not from Dawn. 

A voice did sound outside though, heard clear as day through the thin walls of the attic. The source of the catastrophic dilemma, or so he'd gathered as his eyes trailed toward the noise, seemed to belong to someone proud enough to make himself known. Entitled for sure, even going as far as to claim ownership of their ranch haven.

/Fucking hell.../

He needed to see this monster with his own eyes.

Larke desperately needed help too, but Drake lacked the skills necessary for it and was in no position to help right now anyway. Instead, the dark-haired boy moved toward the opening of the attic with an unsteady and faltering stride, carefully descending its wooden steps. He stumbled hard near the bottom and had to drop a foot or so to compensate for his fumble. His hastily extended wings offered the only counterbalance to stop his momentum from causing him to faceplant. But while the boy did remain on his feet, he still wound up crashing hard against the wall of the hallway with a deep grimace of pain. Drake’s body continued to burn energy in order to keep him standing upright, which in turn made his muscles ache with exhaustion. Not to mention his [i]wings[/i]... They were so [i]damn[/i] heavy that he could no longer keep them up and, as a result, they sagged behind him in a sad and disheveled heap.

[color=#A2A2A2]“...Mina? ...Toby!? S… Someone-”[/color] he sputtered, his chest laboring with every breath. No one was nearby to hear him, however, let alone help him to remain standing, but it would still take him a moment to realize this without his sensing ability present.

Drake decided to push forward despite his wavering physical state, his limbs protesting with every forward motion.

Following the direction of the voice outside, he eventually found himself at the front door. If anyone was standing there in that moment, Drake had paid them no mind, simply squeezing by in order to clamber out onto the front porch. The world outside spun like a whirlpool, making it impossible to stay upright and forcing him to stumble over to the closest wooden pillar for support. Pale fingers gripped hard against the wooden beam, the only thing keeping him from falling at this point as he gathered himself. From there, his gaze raised to meet that of the man's, the one who’d wrought this hell upon them.

[color=#A2A2A2]“What is this?”[/color] he demanded, voice shaking with every syllable.

Surprisingly, Drake’s tone did not sound confrontational in the slightest, but rather mirrored the emotional turmoil of someone who had just lost a loved one.

A somber cry of desperation. 
He had been robbed of a vital part of his being, after all, and amidst the god awful physical side effects he was experiencing, the boy found himself suffering from high levels of emotional devastation. Deep down inside, he was certain he wasn't the only one. Now having seen the man responsible for this horrible plague of events, he lowered his head and closed his tired eyes. 

His energy waned.
 
 
[color=#A2A2A2]“What have you [i]done[/i]?”[/color]